IC contact for maskormenace

[devoutish]

You've reached Alfie Solomons. Leave your name and state your business.

Alfie can be reached via the imPort network, or via a home phone and answering machine. He does have a cell phone, but it's not publicly available.

Comments

[devoutish]

what are you looking for from me, Gwen?

[trouvaille]

( Gwen's turn for the really long 'Gwen is typing', as she types and deletes and changes her mind and stares at what she's written and thinks it looks stupid; )

I just wanted to do the thing people do when they care if you have a feeling about something. I mean, you don't have to care, I don't want anything from you, I just thought if I feel bad about this, probably you do, I could notice and acknowledge that. But in a subtle way. Because that's not really your brand. Or mine.

( tl;dr only Gwen can make a gesture of empathy this awkward. )

[devoutish]

my brand?

[trouvaille]

Aesthetic. Vibe. Pinterest mood board. Philosophy.

[devoutish]

and what makes you so sure of my philosophy?

[trouvaille]

Do you want to talk to me about your feelings?

[devoutish]

No. But that isn't the same as never talking to anybody about my feelings.

[trouvaille]

Okay.

[devoutish]

[Oh hell, she's hurt, isn't she. Alfie likes Gwen; he should probably care about that at least a little.]

It's nothing against you.

[trouvaille]

I didn't expect you to want to,

( which is one of the reasons she'd tried to come at it so obliquely, the other one being that 'you probably don't do that' was definitely projecting: )

and like, I don't want to talk about anyone's feelings. But if you wanted to simultaneously have feelings we're not talking about, you know, like. A friend thing.

( ??? did she do it right yet )

[devoutish]

That was more earnest than I expected. I like you like this.

[trouvaille]

Deeply socially awkward?

[devoutish]

Not playing off everything with jokes.

[trouvaille]

I like me better the other way.

( It feels significantly less vulnerable, for one thing. )

[devoutish]

I'm sure you do.

[trouvaille]

Anyway. You don't have to do anything. I hope whatever you're doing works for you annnnnd I'll leave it at that.

[devoutish]

Will you also be doing poorly with this news?

[Which, hey, tacit admittance that he's doing poorly himself.]

[trouvaille]

December's like a month long winter festival, at home. The whole extended family descends on my father's place just before my birthday onwards, and Daddy is constantly trying to outdo himself, which at a certain point is just terrifying and ill-advised. We'll collect a few stray friends who weren't going anywhere or friends of partners or whathaveyou, fill the whole place up. Nobody's entirely sober til January. Live music with the lot of us and at least one punch up or it's not Christmas.

( Yes, but she was already doing poorly. )

[devoutish]

I'm sorry.

[And that he does mean, genuinely.]

Trying to recreate it here is a poor fucking imitation, isn't it.

[trouvaille]

I thought it would be. I haven't even told anyone it's my birthday.

( Or, well, now she's told Alfie. Not anyone who would want to do anything about it. )

[devoutish]

Is it? You're 13 now?

[Just casually harkening back to that old joke of theirs about her being super young and him being super old.]

[trouvaille]

A whole fifteen, thank you, Grandpa.

( Plus or minus (okay, plus) ten years, sure. )

[devoutish]

Happy birthday.

[trouvaille]

Thanks.

[devoutish]

Come for dinner. I'm doing nothing at all for Christmas.